Qu'ils Mangent de la Brioche
by Marilyn Manganese
Summary: Kenny's birthday is so okay it's average.


Kenny gets up at six AM every morning during the school week. Not for himself, though. For Karen. The usual routine goes something like shower, get dressed, drag his father off the kitchen floor if he's there, get breakfast started if there's food in the house, and do Karen's hair. He manages to shower, in and out just as the water shifts from lukewarm to freezing. Yesterday's pants, fresh underwear, and last week's shirt make a good enough outfit for a Friday. It's a quarter after six when Kenny knocks on Karen's door.

She isn't in her room, or the living room, or the kitchen and Kenny's stomach knots up until he sees a pink sticky note, tacked to the fridge.

_Student council meeting early this morning, heading over to the Tuckers to catch a ride with Rachel_

_-PS Happy Birthday! :)_

Kenny smiles and tucks the note in his pocket. When school started Karen ran against Craig's sister Rachel for class president. It had been a bitter, dirty campaign, but Karen won and Rachel settled for vice president. The two became friends shortly after that, and hoped their brothers would do the same, but Kenny still hated Craig and Craig still hated everyone.

His special birthday breakfast consists of four grapes and a bowl of Frosted Flakes crumbs.

The day breezes by like any other, except Kyle blew him in the locker room during second period study hall — which had been awesome — and had hinted at the chance of hooking up after school. Kyle had this idea that everybody of age should receive oral sex all the time, but on their birthday especially. Kenny appreciated that about him.

School lets out early and Kenny heads straight for the Broflovski's. Kyle isn't there, and neither is anybody else seemingly. Kenny shrugs and moves on. If Kyle isn't home then he's at Stan's place.

Kenny takes the short cut, hopping fences and trampling through various backyards until he's at the Marsh residence. Stan's on the front porch, looking sour and miserable.

"Well you're in a foul mood today. What's up?"

Stan doesn't answer, just keeps glaring at his sneakers like he'll be able to set them on fire if he just concentrated hard enough.

"Okay then." Kenny drops down to sit on the step. "Where's Kyle?"

"Out in the woods somewhere, probably contracting Hep B," Stan spits out. Kenny makes a little 'mmm' in understanding.

Christophe must be back in town then. He tended to wander around ever since his mom passed away, roaming the world like a surly, crazed hobo. Sometimes Kyle would go with Christophe, every now and again. Kenny remembers the first time he had left. Stan went apeshit, and spent the entire summer wallowing in angst. Which left Kenny no one to hang out with except for Cartman, who wanted to do nothing but weird shit like tying firecrackers to rodents, and Butters, who spent most of the summer grounded anyway. That had been the longest Kyle went away, and Kenny was grateful when he returned from the pre-sophmore year pilgrimage. Stan after wailing on end, had mostly cheered up when Kyle gave a long winded detailed 'caterpillar/butterfly' speech that lasted the entire drive home from the airport.

It was impressive to Kenny, how Kyle could turn an excellent makeover and slutting through Europe's seedy underbelly into a beautiful metaphor for blossoming sexuality. It was even more impressive when Kyle kept it up.

"Why are you looking for him anyway? I saw you two talking before third period, is it because of that?" Stan asks.

"No reason," Kenny lies. Amazingly enough, Stan was unaware of his and Kyle's status as fuckbuddies, something Kenny would take to his multiple and infinite graves to keep from him. Kenny was the only one Stan would confide in about his feelings for Kyle, and Kenny valued that trust dearly. Fooling around with Kyle isn't wrong, Kyle wasn't property or someone anyone could have, let alone steal away from another. But Stan wouldn't see it as anything other than that, and complete betrayal. "I just figured that you wouldn't be this pissy if he were around."

"Well he isn't, he's off 'voulez vous couche avec moi'-ing with a lunatic." Stan says, back to being grouchy.

"Christophe isn't that bad, you know."

"He talks to his shovel. They have conversations. They argue."

Kenny shrugs. The shovel's name is Beatrice. Christophe smacked him with it once for what he called 'intruding' and Kenny called 'walking through the part of the forest that was open to the public'.

"This day sucks." Stan says after some time.

"Yeah I've had better birthdays," Kenny agrees. He has, but barely and mainly due to drugs and sex. Neither of which he'll be getting this year it seems.

"Oh shit man I forgot. Um. Happy birthday?" Stan offers, and Kenny grins.

"Thanks. I know you didn't get me a present, but don't worry, pretty much no one else did either. Unless Dad throwing a beer bottle at my head last night counts."

Stan cringes while Kenny laughs. It shouldn't be amusing, making people uncomfortable with the crummy details of his homelife, but it is.

"We could go to Raisins. That one hostess you seemed pretty into is working tonight. And there's this redhead there, Maserati. I think she likes me." Stan's smile comes off as a grimace.

Kenny shakes his head and stands up, stretching his legs. "Gonna have skip this one, as much as I love watching you fail at finding non-Kyle folk appealing, I'm going home and treating myself to a birthday nap."

It's a weekend, Karen texted him earlier about sleepover plans with some girls from school, leaving Kenny free to light some candles, take a bath, and open a vein. He didn't kill himself as much anymore, only when things became too much, or on special occasions. Or in this case, both.

"Okay. Well see you then." Stan waves to Kenny briefly, and resumes pouting when Kenny jogs off.

Kenny is tense, excited when he gets home. It's been months since he died, and longer since he did it on purpose. He used to hate dying as a kid, but growing up, Kenny realized what he should have hated was coming back to life. He hopes it'll be permanent this time. It never is, but Kenny hopes.

So when he walks in on Karen in the living room, laid out on the couch. Kenny's first instinct is to punch the wall.

"What the fu- What are you doing here? I got your text, I thought you were sleeping over at…Kim's?" Or Bonnie Donovan's, or Katie Black's or literally any other house in South Park but their own.

"I was, but I changed my mind. It's your birthday so I'm hanging out with you." Karen says. "And don't bullshit me and say you already have plans, I know you don't."

"Watch your mouth. And I…don't but, but it's okay, go hang with your friends. I'm fine," Kenny says, trying to keep from begging. He's starting to panic now, his wrists practically hurt with how badly they need to be open, it feels wrong that they're not. But Karen is here, and Karen is staying which means Kenny has to hold it together. He digs his thumbnail into his forearm. There are so many knives in the kitchen, crappy and cheap but sharp enough. Or outside, there are piles of empty, breakable glass bottles. Kenny sits down instead, right next to Karen.

"Here," Karen says, holding out a small card. It's a sheet of construction paper, folded into fourths with stickers all over it. The front reads 'Happy Birthday!" with big purple lettering. He opens it, stares at the clumsily drawn heart with a smiley face and Karen's signature underneath it.

"It looks like that because I made it myself," Karen explains. "I mean…I tried anyway. Sorry it's ugly."

"I love it," Kenny whispers softly. He hugs Karen tight, buries his face in the nape of her neck and squeezes his eyes shut to keep from crying.

"Since when do we have a DVD player?" Kenny asks, when he lets her go and leans back into the couch. It's small, and already hooked up to the TV.

"Since when Rachel let me borrow hers today, and some movies too." Karen holds up a plastic bag. "Let's see, we have Dredd, 21 Jump Street, or Naked Lunch. Which was promised repeatedly to not be porn, and I half believe her."

Kenny cracks up at that, and opens up Dredd. He's seen Naked Lunch twice, and while it isn't porn it's still not something Karen should be watching.

Neither is Dredd as it turns out. The movie's barely started and Karl Urban's already blown some thug's head apart into tomato paste. Karen finds it neat though, and Kenny lets the movie go on.

They finish the night off with 21 Jump Street and Prometheus.

Kenny doesn't die that night, or any other night for a whole month and a half.


End file.
